The National Geographic Magazine
At midday we were visiting a nomad camp
at 14,500 feet, starting point of the real
climb for the top. Two Tibetan women came
furtively upcreek to look me over. Nerv
ously they stood still for one picture to be
taken, then ran away. These girls had never
before seen a village, a camera, or a white man.
Up the creek a woman and naked child
appeared. The woman gathered yak manure
from the bed ground of the night before,
handling it with her bare hands to pile it up
and dry it for fire.
Now came the San Jung Pass, at 16,400
feet. Our aneroid would go to 5,000 meters,
and this hill stretched its capacity to the
utmost. Grass extended all the way to the
top, broken, of course, by more rock patches
than heretofore. The last 300 feet of the
trail is a 4-foot-wide rock chute which was
difficult for the animals with the wide packs,
especially when done on extra-empty stomachs.
As our first men broke over the top, they
saw a band of blue sheep. After a pause
to enjoy the sight, we dropped down through
scrub rhododendron and prostrate juniper to
the San Jung Lamasery for the night-eleva
tion 12,100 feet.
THE GEOGRAPHIC Arouses Wonder
We camped in the center of the compound.
What a group of poor, dirty, ragged, inquisi
tive, pathetically beggarish boys were here!
They were young, 11 to 17 years old mainly.
They stared at me.
At last I distracted attention by producing
three copies of the NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC.
Photographs serve as an international lan
guage, even if print is unfamiliar. The head
teacher of these young lamas tubed his hands
and looked at the page through them. Each
of the boys tried it, and some used this means
of looking as long as they had the magazines
(pages 732 and 741).
This night we went to sleep to the slow,
low chant of the lamas all around us. There
rose the low burrup of the horn and the hol
low drum rolls.
Game was plentiful. Ma ch'i (horse
chicken), or Tibetan eared pheasants, were
everywhere, and I managed to get a close
shot at a male musk deer. Good luck and
a short range added about 30 pounds of
meat to our larder. This small Asiatic deer
has no horns or antlers. Its only means of
protection is a pair of 4- to 6-inch caninelike
tusks. The males have scent glands which
are dried and sold to perfumers of the out
side world to be used as a base for expensive
perfumes.
Three days were spent in this kind of coun-
try, during which we crossed two more passes,
La Kuo at 16,000 feet, and Gali, 16,300 feet.
Then we came out at Chantui on the Yalung
River.
Gift Goods Make Up for Lack of Cash
This region is little traveled. National cur
rency is not acceptable. The Tibetan rupee,
metallic money, is the medium of exchange.
Official rate of exchange in Chantui was $10
national currency to one rupee, but we
couldn't find a money-changer. Luckily we
had a good supply of gift goods, and $30
worth of needles, garlic, red yarn, and snuff
took the place of $90 in cash.
At Chantui one of the largest cantilever
bridges in West China crosses the Yalung
River. It is the only span across this wild
upper tributary of the Yangtze in more than
200 miles.
Chantui is a Chinese garrison center mainly
for protection of this bridge. Ruins of forts
are on the ridge above the town, and ruins
of the old garrison house stand near the pres
ent three-storied center of Chinese authority.
Surrounding hillsides, steep and scrub-cov
ered, were grazed by underfed dwarf cattle,
sheep, and goats, which were brought into
town nightly.
We stayed here just long enough to procure
new caravan animals and a change of guards,
leaving for downriver the next afternoon.
The following day we left the canyon and
headed west. We climbed 1,640 feet the first
hour and by 11 o'clock were in grasslands and
crags at an elevation of 16,300 feet. We
dropped down to a nomad camp at noon for
fresh milk, a fire, and hot water.
Our special group of 20 local horsemen
continually studied the horizon. Trouble was
brewing, and apparently we were a part of it
or perhaps the cause of it. Shortly after
noon we reached the crest of the pass (16,400
feet).
Descending, we entered a large valley of
timber and grasslands in which barley and
peas were growing in brush-enclosed fields
along the bottom lands. Wuhua Lamasery
was in this valley. It was a small lamasery
turned over to us for the night.
The head man greeted us. All was in order,
servants and fuel available. The main temple
had been swept clean for our beds.
Our campfire was built under the porch roof,
in front of the big temple door. While my bed
was being set up, a lama burned incense of
green juniper boughs before the grim-faced 15
foot idol with a beltful of human heads.
Next day we reached the highest and west
ernmost point of the trip. We estimated that
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